


Tease

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Hero Worship, Implied Gang Violence, M/M, Organized Crime, Unhealthy Obsessions, strip clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Everything Akechi Mitsuhide has ever wanted lies before his eyes.  He resolves to work harder than ever before to prove himself worthy of attaining it.





	Tease

“You understand, I take it, what this position will require of you.”

Mitsuhide smirked, tracing the collar of his crisp black shirt with a fingertip. Of course he knew – why else would he have come if it wasn’t for the demands, that met his own exactly? The more time he spent around Nobunaga, however, the more Nobunaga himself became a larger factor – but he was smart enough not to say that out loud. Nobunaga was famed for his ruthlessness, his unforgiving nature. If Mitsuhide wanted to stay within his good graces, he would have to put everything he was worth into proving himself from this night and onwards.

“Of course I do, my Lord Nobunaga.” 

Nobunaga stood first, and following etiquette, Mitsuhide stood as well. He had already been told where and when to show up on Monday evening, giving him two days’ worth of time to prepare whatever he _had_ to before making his little debut. Mitsuhide, of course, was no stranger to the nature of this club, however – he knew the activities and the organizations that Nobunaga was involved in, and he knew what would be _expected_ of him if he were to become one of the most highly sought.

That was his ultimate goal. The more he thought about it, the more appealing it seemed – the one on the arm of the Devil King. It would be the _closest_ that any human being could get to truly becoming one with the overwhelming, _erotically_ strong coldness that Oda Nobunaga emanated, and discovering what minuscule cracks persisted even through his external iron wall. 

If there were any at all, that was.

“I expect nothing less.” Oda’s eyes narrowed.

Mitsuhide licked his lips, reaching forwards in a moment of impulse and plucking open the very topmost button of Nobunaga’s shirt before swiftly withdrawing with all the triumph of a cat who had gotten the cream. His heart was thudding rapidly in his chest, he could have swooned from the intoxicating, sweet thrill that his presence alone had caused. There was a tense stretch of silence between them both, and Mitsuhide’s breath caught – he was utterly unable to tear his eyes away. It was as if Nobunaga had pinned him with his stare alone, like a butterfly in a glass case, and Mitsuhide, for one, was rather glad to be there.

“If I might _ever_ be of use,” Mitsuhide purred, “in further proving the trust you have placed in me – “

“You will hear from me soon enough,” Oda said, teeth clenched, although this time, it wasn’t out of anger. He was looking Mitsuhide up and down, scanning him, as if trying to take every inch of him in, and Mitsuhide? Well, he knew there was no hope for him now. He smiled politely, waited to be dismissed, and then bowed formally and exited. Done and done. His position was as secure as it could be in this dangerous line of work and under this particularly dangerous man, nonetheless. 

It was out of his hands now – Mitsuhide had done everything he could, he had played all of his cards with care and precision. He could only hope that the Devil King would summon him quickly. It would matter not how many clients he would be expected to dance for – he would enjoy it all, he would take his thrill and his pleasure as he always had, using the flesh that others seemed to find so delectable. 

Nevertheless, the point remained. Mitsuhide would try his very best, oh yes, but he could feel the longing deep within him, within his blood, the intoxication that he wanted to be lost to forever, the ultimate pain that he’d been searching his whole life for without knowing. With all the dreamlike images of bruises on his neck, of sore thighs and those cold eyes staring down at him while Mitsuhide worked on his knees, he didn’t know how long he could remain patient.


End file.
